Out, Damned Spot, Out
by random fat echidna
Summary: Sam just wants to be normal. Pure. Platonic Wincest. Oneshot.


It started off as a tingling on Sam's skin. It crawled up his arms and down his legs and he shifted and rolled to make it stop. And then he was clawing, clawing at his skin, pulling and teasing his flesh. He wanted whatever it was inside of him, whatever blood that wasn't his, out. Sam wanted to rip it out. He didn't want this. He wanted to be cleansed. To be pure again.

Before he knew what he was doing, Sam ran to the bathroom, flipping on the light switch and closing the door, not bothering to lock it. He had started to bleed. Blood, scarlet and oozing, dripped from the scratches along his arms. He pulled at them more. His nails, ripped and bloodied, pulled skin away from blood. It hurt. It hurt like Hell, but he had to get this uncleanliness, this impurity, out of him, before it changed him for the worse.

It was in the way Dean looked at him that had Sam convinced that Dean thought he was something evil. Something born in Hell. Sam could see it in the way they weren't as close, physically, as they were before. There were no more idle touches: a hand on the small of his back to guide him, or a pat on the back. Sam's chest ached with longing. He just needed someone. Anyone. He needed to know he was still loved, even in his state, even with the tainted blood that ran through him. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't.

Maybe he wasn't worth it anymore. Sam laid his head back against the cold tile, arms, streaked with the colour of rust, left marks on the white of the floor. Maybe he should save Dean the trouble. There wasn't any way they were going to make it out of this alive. No way.

Sam was up and at the toilet in no time. His emptied his stomach, a hand braced against the white ceramic of the back and the other clenched at his side. Out, out, out. I want to be pure again.

His stomach spasmed again and Sam felt a hot weight against his cheek. He didn't wipe it away. It was nice to be reminded that he was still human, and had human feelings. After all that had happened, it was easy to forget.

Sam didn't hear Dean come in. He didn't hear him retrieve the first aid box, either. His voice cut through the silence, ordering him to keep still. Dean was crying, too. That was strange: why would he cry over something like Sam? Something impure and dark. Something not worth saving. Sam tried to shift away from his brother, murmuring something incoherent, but Dean kept an arm coiled around Sam's elbow, effectively tieing him to his spot.

Dean brushed his fingers over Sam's bleeding skin, wiping away the blood with an antiseptic wipe. Sam wanted to tell him to stop, that he wasn't worth it, that Dean should just save himself the trouble, but he felt to tired. So very tired.

Sam pushed away his brother's hand. "Dean, stop."

Dean looked down at his brother, eyes wide.

"I don't need you to look after me."

"The Hell you don't-"

Sam shut Dean down with a wave off his hand. His arm ached, still painful from scratching. Good. The pain reminded him that, for now, he was still alive and that he was cleansing himself the best he could. Sam's head lolled sideways. Eyes fluttered shut. "We both know I'm not worth saving, Dean. I'm impure. I'm a demon." Sam's hand reached for his arm, fingers flexed, but Dean pulled it down and threaded his fingers through his brother's. "And I'm so tired, too. Why can't you just let me go?"

Dean's frown deepened. "Because I love you, Sammy, and I'm only letting you go when it's your time. And it ain't your time yet." His eyes filled with tears. He blinked them back. No more. "Let me help you, Sam. Please."

"Dean..."

"I'm gonna get you through this, alive, you hear me?" Dean shook Sam's shoulder, rousing him.

"You sure I'm not gonna just slow you down, Dean?" Sam asked, blinking slowly.

"You will never slow me down. I only go as fast as you can." Dean knelt closer to his brother. "Let me help you, please."

Sam hesitated before answering. He considered his brother's face. "Okay," Sam said, voice barely audible. His stomached ached and felt heavy, and his arms burned from where he had torn away the skin, but his brother wanted one thing from him. He wanted him to stay alive.

That made him feel somewhat cleaner inside.


End file.
